


Owie

by Crockzilla



Series: Domesti-Kink with Spideypool [9]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Age Play, Daddy!Wade, Dadpool, Disney Movies, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, little!peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 19:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crockzilla/pseuds/Crockzilla
Summary: Peter's arm is really sore from getting a flu shot. Wade makes it better.





	Owie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notlucy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlucy/gifts).



> This is something little that I wrote for notlucy, whose arm is thankfully healed now.

“Now, _why_ did you choose to get a flu shot?”

Peter sighed, trying hard not to rub the angry red knot on his upper arm. “The pharmacy down the block is doing a charity thing where they donate a meal for every flu shot.”

“Oh,” Wade said as he watched his boyfriend stubbornly attempt to make dinner with only one usable arm. He wondered why Parker Industries didn’t just give a bunch of money to a food bank (which it did anyway) instead of Peter enduring the obvious pain he was in, but he wouldn’t say that out loud just now. Later, perhaps, when Peter didn’t wince every time he engaged the muscles of his left bicep.

“What in the butts could be in that formulation that your Spidey-healing isn’t making it go away?”

“It’s getting better,” Peter said, immediately betraying his words by hissing in pain as his arm brushed a cabinet door.

Wade cautiously wrapped an arm around his beloved’s waist, gently plucking the pan he had been retrieving out of his hand. Peter did this sometimes, this whole pretending-not-to-be-tired-or-hurt routine, which made zero sense to Wade – he _knew_ Spidey was a super tough badass and had told him so on many occasions, so he wasn’t sure why Peter felt like he needed to prove it to him – but he figured it had something to do with Peter always having been small for his age and getting picked on, and that thought made it even harder not to scoop up and cuddle his guy. “What if we leave mac ‘n cheese until tomorrow night and order in?”

“No,” Peter very nearly stamped his foot. “I said I was making mac ‘n cheese tonight, I’ve been looking forward to mac ‘n cheese all day, I want mac ‘n cheese!”

There was a moment of silence in which they both acknowledged that Peter had just almost aged down over mac ‘n cheese. Peter sighed out his breath and sagged defeatedly against the counter. Wade took the opportunity to slide both arms lovingly around his waist, resting his chin on Peter’s shoulder. “I can order mac ‘n cheese from the steak place, you know.”

And that made Peter perk up ever so slightly, because their steak place’s mac ‘n cheese was the only acceptable alternatively to their own homemade mac ‘n cheese. “Yeah. Okay.”

Wade carefully pushed up the sleeve of Peter’s T-shirt to get a good look at the shot sight. It really did look horribly sore. “Did no one at work offer to kiss this for you?”

“No,” Peter pouted slightly. “And I hinted _pretty_ heavily, too.”

“Fiends,” Wade said before ever so gently kissing the red, swollen bump, which felt hot to his lips. “Better?”

Peter made a very small sad-puppy sound. “Yes. Thank you. _How_ is it this sore?” he said, finally letting out a little of his frustration. “I feel like I’ve had broken bones heal faster than this!”

“Go lay down on the couch,” Wade said as he grabbed their Lisa Frank ice-pack out of the freezer, “and hold this on it, and I’ll be right there.”

Peter gratefully took the ice-pack and gave Wade a very grown-up kiss before obediently heading into the living room. They both knew where the evening was headed, and there would be no more grown-up anything probably until the next day. Good thing the Fantastic Four had given them a Night Off Crime Fighting coupon as an anniversary gift (those weirdos were kind of growing on Wade, he had to admit). After calling the FF to cash in their coupon, Wade called the steak place and ordered four mac ‘n cheeses (because it was technically a side dish [and he wanted leftovers goddamnit]), and then, because Peter was quietly watching the news and didn’t seem super Little yet, he surreptitiously threw together a batch of brownies. He was becoming _quite_ the baker himself, thanks to Peter’s tutelage, and he had them in the oven in a matter of minutes – just in time, too, because that was when he heard a small, sad whine come from the living room. Wade grabbed their bottle of children’s drinkable ibuprofen and went to join his baby on the couch.

Peter, who he could see was now very Little, made grabby hands at him as soon as he entered the room. “Daddy, my _arm_ hurts…”

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that, baby boy,” Wade cooed, pouring a dose of the ibuprofen into the measuring cap. “Can you please drink this down for me? It’ll make you feel much better, I promise.”

Peter took the medicine without a fuss (because it was grape flavored and actually pretty delicious) as well as about six more caps-full because between having an adult body and also Spidey-healing, it took almost a whole bottle of the stuff to make a difference. When he’d finished, Wade scooped his baby spider up into his lap, handing him a juice box as he snuggled close. “Want to watch a movie while we wait for dinner to show up?”

Peter nodded, eyes bright with Little-space as he contentedly sipped at his juice. They chose _Hercules_ because it was finally back on Netflix ( _whew_ ), and an excellent choice it was because they got so distracted singing along that Peter seemed to forget his arm a bit. Every now and then, he’d reached up and rub at it, and Wade would gently pluck his hand away and kiss the sore spot again. Just as it was time for dinner to get there, the smell of almost-done brownies wafted into the living room. Peter gasped when he recognized the aroma. “Daddy, did you make _brownies?_ ”

“I did, indeed, angel.”

Peter looked at him as if he’d just announced that he’d solved climate change. “By _yourself?_ ”

“By myself,” Wade laughed. “Are you proud of me?”

Peter demonstrated how proud he was by peppering his face with a thousand tiny little-kid-kisses, making them both giggle happily. When dinner arrived, Wade insisted on compensating the delivery person in brownies instead of money until they finally gave up, handed Wade the giant bag of mac ‘n cheese, and left ( _with_ a brownie). Wade knew Peter would scold him tomorrow and lecture him about how they had plenty of money and why did he always try to get out of paying for food, but maybe he could turn that into a sexy scenario. Mmm, yes. But for now, he scooped out big helpings of gooey cheesy noodles into bowls and put three brownies on a plate (because he couldn’t just hand his baby the whole pan of dessert for fear of hurting his tummy), and they ate on the couch as they watched Hercules fight the Hydra. By the time Herc was headed to Olympus and Wade was trying hard not to get choked up as he sang along to “A Star Is Born,” Peter had pretty much fallen asleep against his shoulder, curled up in his lap and wrapped up snugly in the Good Blanket.

“Love you, Daddy,” he murmured, sleepily.

Wade sniffled and kissed his little kiddo on the head. This was _not_ helping him not cry over the end of yet another Disney movie. “Love you, too, sweets. You’re my good, brave guy.”

Peter smiled a little, nuzzling further into Wade’s neck, and fell completely asleep. Wade turned off the TV, carried his baby Spidey to bed, and quickly did the dishes before joining him.

The next morning, Peter had already called the steak place and apologized and given them a credit card number by the time Wade woke up. And he was having a brownie for breakfast. “These are fantastic!” he praised, giving Wade a chocolate-flavored kiss.

“Did they heal my poor honey-bunch’s owie?” Wade asked, pushing up Peter’s sleeve to see that the swollen bump was totally gone.

“ _You_ did,” Peter corrected, pulling Wade down onto his lap and feeding him the rest of his brownie. “Thank you for taking care of me, babe.”

Wade smiled at his fella as they took a moment to indulge in gazing dreamily into each other’s eyes. “Thank _you_ for feeding me brownies for breakfast.”

Peter shrugged, taking another brownie out of the pan for them to share. “There’s eggs in them.”

Wade hummed in agreement as Peter fed him another piece – that was some sound logic right there.


End file.
